


Private Dancer

by Greysgate



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gay For You, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:16:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greysgate/pseuds/Greysgate
Summary: Daniel is dancing, as part of an off-world diplomatic shindig, and Jack is watching.





	Private Dancer

Drums throb in the night like my heartbeat in my ears and all I can do is watch, because _Daniel is dancing._ He doesn’t do this often. Most of the time he’s hyper-aware of himself, and that’s what makes him clumsy and geeky. He can feel it when people are looking at him, unless there’s music playing. 

Then, he loses track of who and what he is. That’s when it happens, when I can’t take my eyes off him.

The first time I saw it was on Abydos. I’d been away for a year or so, and he’d been marooned there with his gift-bride and her people. He’d been joining in the native celebrations during all that time, and things had happened to him. He became a husband and fell in love with his wife, in that order. He made discoveries that piloted the Stargate Program. He lived ancient history, immersed himself in an antiquated, alien culture, but he never became one of them. 

Not until the drums started to play. The celebration the Abydonians held when we returned to their city was nothing but a big party. There was food and Daniel’s moonshine aplenty.  There was music and laughter, and there was dancing.

That isn’t my thing. Oh, I know how to waltz and look pretty damn good doing it. I’m well acquainted with all the ballroom dances because that’s the sort of thing officers are expected to know for formal functions. I learned all that stuff from my mom, who was a Colonel’s wife herself and an amazing dancer in her own right, but I don’t do any of it anymore. I don’t have a wife to parade around, so I avoid as many of the formal social functions as possible. For most of the last seven years, I’ve stayed off the dance floor completely. 

I have, however, stood on the sidelines and watched. 

Just like I’m doing now. 

Watching Daniel dance. 

He’s spent a lot of the last two weeks in training here on P2X-whatever. The folks here are nice, smart, and will make good allies, but they’re big on protocol and formalities. One of those is this crazy celebration we’re in the middle of at the moment. There were ceremonies and speeches, signing of the official treaty (in quadruplicate, no less), an exchange of gifts, and now this.  

Daniel had explained to me earlier how it was an interpretive dance. He’s gone to classes in the city every day to learn these moves. Tonight, before this shindig got started, a handful of the alien men came to our quarters to get him ready. They bathed him, and he let them. They anointed his skin with scented oils that made him look like he was covered in gold dust. They put a costume on him with a black scarf draped around his shoulders, coins and jingly things wrapped around his arms and neck, and an indecently short skirt that’s all sparkly and tight, leaving parts of him bare – legs and feet, belly, arms, bits of chest and back. They gave him a headdress that makes him look like he’s got long blond hair down to his waist, and then they painted his face.  

Of course I had to tease him about being Danielle in drag, but it looks good on him. His eyes are lined in black kohl, in quasi-Egyptian style, the lids darkened with a brownish shade that makes him look all mysterious and sultry. The blue in his irises just pop, like they’re electrified, and since he’s got his contacts in, the glasses don’t get in the way, making them glow even brighter. His lips are all shiny-pink and kissable-looking.  

_Shit._

I look down at the drink in my hand and take a belt. It’s some kind of weird tea, and I’m assured that it won’t have any effect on me to screw up my senses or judgment or anything, but now I dunno. I’m feeling pretty strange at the moment. 

Glancing back up at my teammate, I watch him move. He was so soft and pasty when I took him through the gate to Abydos the first time. Now he’s all muscle, not an ounce of fat on him. The yard work he’s done at his bungalow lately – sans shirt, mind you – has given him a nice tan. He looks good. Built like a brick house.   

And _the way he moves…_

He doesn’t do that when he’s self-conscious. When the music carries him away, when he’s lost track of himself, that’s when it happens. It’s like magic, the change that comes over him. 

His movements are fluid. The rhythm owns him, controlling every shrug, every step, every sweep of those bulging arms. His body undulates like a snake’s; big fuckin’ anaconda. He’s mesmerizing, graceful, sensual. 

Then I make the huge mistake of looking at his face. 

 _Fuck!_  

Teeth closed over his bottom lip, his dimples are flaring. His lashes are lowered as he gazes down at his dance partner – another man about his age and general appearance. Daniel is having a good time.  He’s enjoying himself.  He’s _loving_ this. 

The other man is touching him now, his palms stroking down Daniel’s arms. They move closer, undulating together.  It’s sexual, the way they ripple their bodies in unison. 

Daniel throws his head back, exposing his throat, eyes closed in bliss. The other man sweeps a hand around him, placing his palm into the small of Daniel’s back, pulling him closer. Their groins press together. Their bellies rub as their hips begin to swing around and around, their dance steps leading them into a close, intimate circle. 

I see red. My hands clench around the cup in my hand, and it breaks. I have to look away to clean up the mess and push Carter’s hands away as she tries to mop up. My blood is boiling because I don’t want that man touching Daniel in that way. I want to break them up, to punch that asshole in the face and haul Daniel off to our room. I want to undress him and wipe all that shit off him, put him back in his BDUs and make him be the geek again, because I can _handle_ the geek. I can ignore Daniel when he’s got the uniform and the glasses on. 

While I’m busy with my spill, memories are flashing through my mind, all of them set to music. All of them of a similar view: of Daniel dancing on other worlds, taking part in alien celebrations the way he always does. He eats their food, tastes their booze, reads their books and dances to their music. 

And when he does, he forgets, for a little while. The walls he keeps around himself come down. He’s open and vulnerable. 

That’s why I can’t look away when he’s dancing.  

I know what this means. I’ve struggled with it now for years, pushing him away because he’s gotten under my skin and doesn’t even know it. He has no idea what I do when I’m home alone and need a little release. He’d probably freak if he knew I turn on loud rock music, the stuff they play in dance clubs, and close my eyes, remembering him in motion. I jack off to that, because it’s the _sexiest thing I’ve ever seen_. 

He doesn’t know, and I’ll never tell him. I can’t, because I’m in the Air Force. He’s straight, just like I thought I was, until the music started. That was a pretty rude awakening, and I haven’t gotten over it yet. Maybe I never will. 

All I can do is watch. 

I shoo Carter away and lift my eyes to the dancers as the music changes tempo. It’s slower now, and Daniel is cuddled up to his partner, swaying with him. His eyes are closed, and he looks like he’s in heaven. 

When those smoky lids open, Daniel looks around for something, until finally his painted gaze lands on me and holds. His eyes are on fire, and he smiles. He knows how sexy he is, and he’s tempting me.  

 _Inviting_ me. 

Wanton. 

Willing. 

The music stops, and for a moment, the air seems to throb with ebbing pulses of it. 

Daniel stumbles, his expression changing to one of sudden surprise, as if waking up from a wet dream. He steps back, breathing hard through his mouth as he bows to his partner, and the celebrants and officials crowd in on him. He plays his part, shaking hands, smiling and talking with everyone, but every few seconds he looks up at me, a little shaken, a little afraid. 

I turn away, getting a fresh cup of tea, wishing they had some good Irish whiskey available.  

The dance is over, and now it’s time to schmooze till the wee hours. Daniel will be caught up in his role as diplomat till we’re both asleep on our feet. Then we’ll head off to our quarters for a little shut-eye. 

Don’t know if I’ll be able to rest with him in the next bunk, but I’ll give it a valiant effort. 

Maybe it’s time I retired. My knees are shot; my back aches most of the time. I’m getting too old for this shit, and I’ve fallen for my civilian advisor. I owe it to the military to get out while I’ve still got a little honor left. No one knows how Daniel affects me, and it’s best for everyone that it stays that way. 

I wander out on the balcony of the great hall where this party is happening, and look up at the stars. 

This isn’t exactly how I envisioned going out, but I know I’ve had enough. If I don’t resign soon, I’m going to end up hitting on Daniel. And if the look on his face as he was dancing is any indicator of what’s going on inside him, all I’d have to do to seduce him is turn on some music and dance him over to my bed. That would be taking advantage, and that’s not the kind of man I am. 

“Jack.” 

I don’t turn around or speak. He knows I know he’s there.  

“It was just a dance,” he tells me, something about his voice pleading. “The movements are very specific, and my dance partner was chosen by the Mudarans as someone equal in rank and education to mine. It wasn’t—“   

“Is it over yet?” I snap. I don’t want to hear explanations and apologies; I know what I saw. I know how much he loved how the music made him feel. I also know I’d love to make him feel that way, to put that look on his face. 

“Wh-what? Is what over?” He looks startled and a little confused. 

“Can I slip out the back door?” I paraphrase. “ _You’re_ the star here tonight.” 

“Jack, don’t.”  He clears his throat, nervous now.  Maybe a little ashamed that he’s such a celebrity here.  “I mean, um.”  He clears his throat again.  “Are you okay?” 

“Just feelin’ old and tired,” I growl back, turning back to my view of the city and the strange stars above us, “and I’d like to go to bed.” 

“Gimme a minute,” he murmurs, and before I can tell him to stay and enjoy himself, he’s gone. 

I turn to watch him and see him slipping through the crowd, saying his farewells and gathering the rest of the team together.  I head out the back way, taking the steps down from the balcony, and meet them downstairs.  We walk across the street to our posh staterooms, where foreign guests are housed for big to-dos like this.  

Carter and T go into their rooms, and Daniel and I step into ours and close the door.  He locks up behind us, and heads for the balcony.  Pulling open the glass doors, he lets the night breeze in to freshen the room.  For a moment he just stands there, bathed in moonlight, his face turned up to the sky. 

What I can see of his expression looks troubled.  “You’re disgusted with me,” he assesses aloud. The drums start up again, distant this time, echoing down the canyon between the tall buildings. His head turns, taking note of the pull of the rhythm, then pushing it away, shaking it off as he looks back at me.  “It was just a dance,” he insists. “It didn’t mean anything, Jack. I know how it looked, but—“ 

“If you think I think you enjoyed it, you’re right,” I admit, maybe a little too harshly. “You liked it too damn much, and it _does_ mean something, Daniel.” 

I sit down on the double bed that will be mine for the night and pull off my boots as I’m talking. Then I take off my weapons and put them on the far side of the bed, where they’ll be in reach. Glancing up at Daniel, I see his fingers moving, as if the side of his thigh were a piano keyboard. He’s playing the notes in his head that he’s hearing from the hall across the way. 

“Music does things to you,” I continue, looking away as I continue to undress for the night. I put my socks into my boots, then start with my BDU jacket. “Things you can’t resist. You let go when there’s music, and that’s the only time you do.”  I clamp my lips together, my thoughts in a roaring jumble in my poor, tired brain.  “It’s like sex to you,” I say in a voice just over a whisper. 

For a moment, there’s stunned silence, and I don’t know who’s more surprised at my words, Daniel or me. So I continue to get ready for bed, taking off my jacket and laying it across the foot of the bed. Next are my belt and T-shirt, leaving me in just my pants. I scoot back onto the mattress, leaning back against the headboard.   

“Like... sex?” 

“You throw yourself wide open, Daniel. Even now, you’re feeling the pull. It’s distracting you, making you lose focus because you can hear the music outside. You want to dance again, and you don’t want to stop.” 

“Um.” He raises one finger into the air and lifts his chin, that gesture he makes when he wants to point something out to me.  Only the music is still tugging at him, demanding that he listen, that he move. 

“Give in,” I tell him, bitterness filling me up and overflowing. “Just do it. Go ahead and dance your ass off, if you wanna. Right here, right now. Nobody’s watching.” 

“ _You_ are, and what the hell—“ 

“Dance!” I order harshly. “You know you want to, so do it, ‘cause I wanna watch.  I always watch you when you do that.  I don’t have a choice.” I can see on his face that he hears the resentment in my voice.

For the space of a few heartbeats, he is perfectly still, just staring down at me.  

Bitterness breaks inside me and gives birth to longing. I sigh in defeat and lean my head back against the wooden headboard, gazing at his body from beneath half-closed eyes. The amber lamplight makes him look like he’s made of solid gold. 

God, he’s so fucking gorgeous!  A blind person could see his beauty. 

He takes the headdress off and tosses it onto a nearby chair. Turning his back to me, he runs his fingers through his hair, thinking, arguing with himself where I can’t hear the debate, but I can see the wheels turning in his head. He changes direction a couple of times, showing his indecision, but I know when he finally decides to do it. He goes still again, his head down, his shoulders hunched. 

His toes start to move first, tapping against the marble floor in perfect rhythm to the beat of the distant drums. As he turns to face me, I see his eyes close, the rhythm wriggling up his body, twitching in his shoulders and hips.  He flexes and undulates, his hips thrusting forward, and he’s biting his lower lip again. 

He isn’t looking at me, so he can’t see the rise in my trousers that he’s inspiring.  I can’t fight it down this time, can’t look away, can’t touch myself to hurry it through.  I’m finished as soon as he looks at me, because even without my saying a thing, he’ll know exactly what the sight of him like that does to me.  He’ll know he turns me on. 

Daniel pivots with the grace of a prima ballerina, putting his back to me.  I watch the muscles of his broad back flex and lengthen.  I see how tight and gorgeous his ass is above those powerful thighs.  He has a body that any Olympic athlete would covet.  He’s built for power and is learning how to use it.  He’s becoming a warrior, something that just galls me on a lot of levels, even as it excites me on a few others.

He shouldn’t know the things he does, shouldn’t have seen the tragedy and terror he’s witnessed over the course of our friendship.  He’s far less innocent than the bumbling geek who stumbled through the gate onto Abydos, but we’ve all seen many of the same things.  We’ve all been scarred and changed by what we know.  He’s a different man now.  Some of those changes have been good; others I regret.  There was so much of the child still in him then, innocence that is now long gone.  I mourn that loss, but I celebrate the skilled warrior he now is. 

He’s a strong and capable man, able to protect himself now, and also one of the best minds with one of the biggest hearts on Earth or anywhere else. 

And he’s so fucking sexy it _hurts_. 

I watch him dance, and slowly realize that this dance is different.  There’s a touch of Michael Jackson in it, his hands stroking across his crotch, his ass grinding in the air.  This isn’t the same as the ceremonial number he was doing downstairs.  It doesn’t look like anything I’ve ever seen outside a strip club. 

That’s when it hits me.  

Parts of his costume are missing.  Pieces of it are on the floor.  More of his skin is showing, and as he turns around to face me again, I see the distinct bulge behind the gold G-string and teeny little black skirt. 

I get up off the bed.  Mesmerized, unable to stop myself, I take a step, fingers working the buttons on my fly.  By the time I reach him, my pants and skivvies are on the floor behind me.  I stand in front of him, swaying my hips to the rhythm, trying to match his moves, but my knees tell me they’re too old for that shit. 

Reaching out, I put my arms around him and pull him close, hard up against me. 

His eyes snap open, blazing luminous blue.  He’s breathing hard, staring at me.  Then his hands reach around me and grab my ass.  He thrusts against me, the oil on his skin making him slide. 

The cloth of his costume scratches the sensitive skin on my dick.  I reach down and slip three fingers into the string across his hip, give it a jerk and it pops free.  I move my hips back enough to pull it out from between us, and, after a moment’s stillness, we start moving together. 

This time, there is no rhythm; our movements are frenzied as we hold each other so tightly we can hardly breathe.  There’s kissing – if you can call it that.  It’s more like devouring each other; a lifetime of hunger poured into one desperate, unbridled meeting of mouths.  We come fast and hard, our dicks rubbing against each other, crushed between our bodies. 

Afterward, I notice the music has stopped playing.  The city has grown quiet, except for the thudding of our hearts and the harsh rasp of our breathing.  Daniel’s makeup is smeared, and I know I’m probably wearing half of it. 

I don’t know what to say to him about what we just did.  I don’t want to let go of him, too afraid it was something done in the heat of the moment, something he’ll regret.  I don’t want that.  I want it to have been magic. 

Daniel lifts his hand to the back of my neck.  He leans in and kisses me, just the gentlest brush of his lips against mine.  “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for that,” he whispers against my mouth. 

I put my head down on his shoulder, crumbling and spent.  This wasn’t supposed to happen, not ever.  Now it has, and there’s no going back. 

“I s’pose we have to talk about this,” I wheeze, still trying to catch my breath, holding onto him to keep from falling down.  Holding onto him just to keep holding onto him.  I don’t ever want to let go. 

Daniel nods against my face.  “Why don’t you come help me get cleaned up, and we’ll discuss it?” 

He doesn’t let go of me; just pushes me backward a little, enough that I have to take a step.  His hips are swaying now.  He’s dancing again, dancing me backward into the bathroom.  He’s humming, his voice deep and soft and sweet, providing us with the music we need to establish our rhythm.  

Even though I can’t see his face, I sense from the tension in his cheek pressed against my neck that he’s smiling. He can see where we’re going; I’m looking at where we’ve been, but I can’t turn loose.  I have to trust him not to bump me into furniture or the door, guiding the way for both of us. 

I start to think that’s a pretty good metaphor for the whole journey we’ve been on together.  See, I’m supposed to be the one in command, but _no one_ orders Daniel Jackson around unless he’s out of his element – like when it comes to military stuff, he does what I tell him – though that’s the only time he obeys.  This whole Stargate thing – this is _his_ journey, and always has been.  He’s always been the real leader, finding our way, figuring things out, keeping us safe – not just the team, but the whole of Earth.  He looks at little pieces of pottery or a few hen scratches and puts them together into the Big Picture. 

Whatever he suggests we do, I’m going to agree to it, because I know he’ll be right.  He’ll have thought about all the ramifications and possible repercussions of this, and figured out the best course of action for us both.  It’s time I finally gave up control to the guy who’s really in charge here, because I know he’ll take care of me. 

He always has. 

With that thought, I smile against his oily shoulder.   

All this time, I thought he was my private dancer, my personal guilty pleasure, when I’ve been the one dancing to his tune all along.   

Well, it takes two to tango and, as Shakespeare said, “ _If music be the food of love, play on_.” 

I’m thinking Daniel and I will make beautiful music together, and I’m looking forward to starting the dancing lessons. 

FIN


End file.
